


I Think I'm Falling

by wasp



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angels, M/M, Reincarnation, Soul Bond, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2014-09-05
Packaged: 2018-02-16 05:29:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2257578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasp/pseuds/wasp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn wasn’t supposed to die, he wasn’t supposed to fall - he had <em>wings</em>. He had the biggest, strongest, most beautiful wings out of all of them. Liam made a deal for Zayn's life. It was the easiest decision of his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Think I'm Falling

**Author's Note:**

> idk if i'm using the term soul-bonding right

Liam’s standing in front of his class and he’s tired. His body feels heavy and sluggish and he’s having trouble getting through the day. He doesn’t have to work but he’s found out if he didn’t have a reason to leave his bed he’d never leave.   
  
He doesn’t sigh out loud but it’s a close thing. He’s just taking roll call, it shouldn’t be this hard. He takes a deep breath instead, bracing himself, and ignores Michael’s antics at the side of the room. God, he didn’t think he could actually hate a kid but Michael’s testing him. He’s going through the motions, staring down at the roll call and marking off his kids names when the door opens. A boy stumbles through, the strap of his bag getting stuck on the door handle. Michael snickers.  
  
“Is this room 312?” he asks, accent thick.  
  
Liam looks up from the piece of paper and stares. He’s young, _so_ young. He hasn’t met him like this in a long time, hasn’t met him when he was still a teenager. He’s here and he’s whole, Liam’s whole body lights up with it.   
  
“Sir?” Lilliana calls out. She steadfastly sits at the front row every day, having a bit of a crush on him. When he finally manages to tear his eyes away, he sees that Lilliana looks incredibly concerned.   
  
“You’re in the right room,” Liam says shortly. He just wants to smile, joy bubbling up inside him, face heating up. He’s walked this earth for centuries, he’s not going to _blush_  in front of a classroom full of kids and his - his Zayn. “And you are?”   
  
“Zayn, Zayn Malik,” he says cautiously and Michael laughs again. Liam ignores him.  
  
“There’s a free desk here, take a seat,” Liam says, pointing at the seat next to Lilliana with his cupboard. “She won’t bite, Zayn,” Liam says because Zayn doesn’t move.   
  
He’s staring right back at Liam, frozen with his hand tucked under the strap of his backpack. Liam saying his name seems to break him out of it. It jolts Liam’s ribcage, to have his name in his mouth again. It’s been _so_  long.  
  
Zayn takes a seat next to Lilliana but doesn’t respond to her curious gaze. He stares up at Liam the whole time, eyes huge and deer-like, framed in thick lashes. Liam tries not to stare back at him too obviously. It’s hard, all he wants to _do_  is look at him, take in every each of him because he’s here and alive and a _school boy_. He can’t stare at him for too long.   
  
He runs out of the class when he’s finished, for his own sake, long before Zayn can gather up all of his stuff and ask to speak to him.   
  
Zayn stopped remembering as much every time.  
  
Liam always knows, _always_. There’s no way for him to forget. All he does is wait for Zayn to come back to him.   
  


~

“Mr. Payne?” Zayn asks, walking into his room.

It’s nearing the end of the day and Liam’s sitting at his desk, trying to finish up on some essays. He hasn’t had much time lately. His body always goes into a frenzy whenever he sees Zayn again. He feels like a hormone shot teenager, fingers fumbling for his fly as soon as he gets home at the memory of his mouth. It didn’t used to be so bad. They could find each other faster, easier when Liam had wings. It’s takes longer now and in turn his body _aches_  at the loss.

“Yes?” Liam says, lifting his head from his hand. 

His breath catches in his throat at the sight of him. He’s day old, his shirt untucked and wrinkled, tie pulled loose around his neck, his fingers curling and uncurling at the strap of his backpack. His eyes are dark. He walks closer, stops at his desk. He’s trembling, Liam can almost feel it. He’s glad he’s sitting down.

He takes a deep breath, takes a careful look at Liam’s face. His pink mouth parts in surprise and his eyebrows come down in relief. 

“You feel it too,” he says, awed.

“What are you talking about?” Liam says, politely puzzled. His entire body is burning up, his knee jumping. 

Zayn’s tongue swipes at his bottom lip, eyes suddenly turning brazen. “Don’t _lie_ ,” he says, it’s almost a whine. “Is it because I’m seventeen?”

Liam swallows hard. Zayn looks distressed, like he’s hurting too. 

“Zayn,” Liam says, warning.

“Because I’m your student?” he demands, taking another step, about to walk around the table.

“One more word and it’s suspension, _Malik._ ”

He looks positively _wounded_  when Liam glares at him. It kills Liam to have to turn him away. 

It has to be like this, it’s the opposite of what he wants but it has to be like this. He’s lived long enough to know he can’t change the circumstances. Zayn’s still a petty, sullen thing the next day, glaring at Liam in between doodling in his book with his tongue between his teeth.

It doesn’t last long. He keeps drifting back to watching Liam with wide eyes, like he can’t help it. He touches his own lips, listening to Liam’s voice, tracking his fingers like he could practically feel it on his skin. He walks out of the class with a sheepish duck of his head, his bag held close in front of his crotch. 

~

He can’t do anything, not like this. It happens sometimes. He never knows when Zayn will come back to him, when his life will enter the Earth, and there’s no use trying to make sense of it. Liam used to kill himself trying to find him, constantly roaming the earth until he got those few sweet seconds. That’s what it felt like, compared to centuries of his absence. Sometimes it just happens, they get drawn to each other like the universe is trying to right its wrongs. Liam thinks it’s still cruel.

He wants to touch him so much, his skin hurts trying to contain it. He knows Zayn’s body like the back of his own hand, over and over again. 

~

That’s what you get for making a deal with the devil.

They were young, they were in love. They weren’t supposed to, they were supposed to be _pure_. Devoid of any feeling that wasn’t devotion to their Creator. They were raised to be soldiers, they were at war with Evil. Back when they had names that couldn’t be said in any language across the earth.

Zayn wasn’t supposed to die, he wasn’t supposed to fall - he had _wings_. He had the biggest, strongest, most beautiful wings out of all of them. There exists few things that could kill an angel and they were all aimed right at him.

~

Liam tries not to watch him in class but it’s like their bodies are pulling at each other. He keeps his eye on the paper, focusing on the sound of the clock ticking in the background. The class is dead silent, they’re taking a test, but a headache is still blooming steadily behind his eyes, blurring his vision. He just wants to _look_  at the boy, just five seconds. He glances up with practised ease, taking the effort to look around the whole class to make sure everyone has their eyes on their own paper before he can finally rest on Zayn.

Zayn’s already staring at him through his eyelashes, eyes dark with desire. He’s biting at the fleshy part of his thumb and Liam can’t look away, not even when he slides it between his wet lips. His tongue flicks out against the pad of his thumb, his eyes hooded but trained on Liam.

Liam makes himself look back down at the paper on his desk, a rushing in his ear. He waits five minutes before he adjusts himself. Liam doesn’t look at him for the rest of the day. 

~

“I’m sorry, please don’t be mad,” Zayn says, effectively cornering him. He stayed behind after class, pretending to do his shoe laces and Liam was too preoccupied to realise. It’s ironic, he didn’t notice Zayn because he was thinking about him too hard. There’s no table between them this time and Liam’s heart is beating so strong. He just feels so _happy_  when he’s around him.

“I’m not mad,” Liam says, sighing. The boy looks stricken at the thought. He wants to take him into his arms and kiss him and kiss him. 

“Well, then stop ignoring me!” he says, indignant.

Liam doesn’t mean to laugh. It’s soft, fond, the lingering smile. Zayn’s angry outburst melts into an answering smile, slowly. Liam comes back into himself and straightens up. 

“Go to class, Zayn,” he says and leaves him again, his body screaming at him to turn back.

~

He remembers the last time they met, it felt like a different universe. They were in a band together, they were taking over the world. It was exhilarating. Zayn married somebody else. He remembers lying in bed with him, curled towards each other. He was so excited and terrified of this life, everything was happening so fast. Zayn used to comfort him, he thought Liam was scared. 

He didn’t realise that Liam was scared of all the wrong reasons. He was scared of losing Zayn again, he was scared of falling.

When he would get back pains, he would have terrible nightmares. He misses his wings and flying. Zayn touched the scars on his back very carefully, first with his fingertips than with lips, a cooling relief to the constant, aching burn.  

~

Liam’s heart jumps into his throat when he lifts his head and sees Zayn at his door. He’s been spending his lunch in his classroom lately. He tells himself it’s not on the off chance that Zayn will come because that’s a line of thought he’s not entertaining in waking hours. 

“Can I eat lunch in here?” Zayn asks timidly. He’s running his fingers over his brown paper bag nervously, worried about being rejected. 

“Yes,” Liam says immediately. Every instinct in him is wired to say yes, his whole body is thrown into it. He wants him here, it’s like nothing else matters. Liam backtracks, trying to clear the fog in his brain. “No.”

“But I’ve got no one to sit with,” Zayn says, stepping through the door. He closes it behind him. Liam swallows hard. 

Liam knows he’s being played. He knows Zayn too well, he’s had the opportunity in how many lifetimes now.

“Alright,” he finally says, voice quiet, but as usual keeps the desk between them.

Liam marks his essays while Zayn eats his lunch, shooting Liam soft happy smiles in between bites. 

~

They were the best.

Liam watched Zayn die. All because he couldn’t get there in time, he couldn’t save him this time. 

Liam made a deal for Zayn’s life.

He said Zayn had to die, that it was inevitable. His light was fading too fast, he couldn’t bring him back to the way he was. But he promised that he _would_  come back, again and again - he’d be reincarnated. The catch was: he would be human. He would have to die over and over again and Liam couldn’t do anything but watch it happen. All Liam had to do was turn against their Creator, against everything he stood for, and join the Devil’s fight instead.

Zayn would be alive, Liam would see him again - that’s all that mattered. Liam’s never made an easier decision in his life. 

~

When Liam was much younger than he was now, he used to tell Zayn the truth. Zayn would ask him questions about what Liam really was, who they had been in the past, what _happened_.

They would lounge around leisurely in the sun, out in the meadow where nobody could see Liam stretch his wings. Zayn would fit himself in between his legs, resting the back of his head against Liam’s thigh. Liam loves playing with his hair, especially when he lets it grow wild and thick. He’d tilt his head back further so he could look up at Liam with questions in his eyes. 

How do they find each other? Where did he come from? Is Liam his guardian angel? Why does he love him so much?

And Liam would tell him the truth, he’d tell him everything. He could’ve lied but Zayn was so open and honest, endlessly curious. He stopped telling the truth sooner or later, he deemed it unnecessary and cruel. It seemed to cause Zayn a lot of pain.

“Do you get tired? Waiting for me all the time?” Zayn asks, turning around so he’s lying on his stomach. He presses his face against the ticklish side of Liam’s stomach, his arms around his waist. 

“Yeah,” Liam says honestly, blinking down at his ear.

“I’m sorry,” Zayn says, he’s talking about the loss of Liam’s pure soul, fragmented and hurt now, for having to wait, for having to grieve over and over again. 

“I’m not,” Liam murmurs, pulling Zayn up to brush the tears away from his cheeks. “I’m not sorry. I’d do it again and again and again,” he says and kisses him.

Zayn doesn’t stop crying.

~

Liam’s lived for a very long time, fighting for a monster, for Zayn. The first time he met him again, it was all worth it. The lives they lead. It was all worth it. 

Maybe this isn’t the cruelest thing, having Zayn in arm’s distance but being unable to touch him. They’ve lived many lives after all. Liam’s met Zayn on his deathbed, gloriously aged and content at having led a life without Liam, unable to recognise him. He’s run into him the night before he was shipped off to the War, the couple of hours they had together before he got blown up. He’s met him on the cusp of life, Liam desperately trying to breathe air back into his lungs, having _finally_  found him but not in time.

He’s here, he’s alive and he’s healthy. He doesn’t remember Liam but it’s almost alright. 

~

In a different time, Zayn was born with magic. Liam didn’t have to scour the earth to find him, he was already known far and wide for his greatness. It wasn’t even a long journey, not with his wings taking him up into the sky. It was one of the last times he flew.

Liam asked the villagers where he could find him and they all pointed to the tall, lop-sided tower-like house on the hill. Liam flew through the wide, open windows the villagers said Zayn always left open. The villagers were eager and helpful in answering Liam’s questions once they felt Liam wasn't a threat to Zayn. They all adored him, he was _magnificent,_ so powerful, but he still took the time to make little potions for their ailments and protected their village from outside threats. It was almost too easy.

One man confided in Liam, told him he thought he was going to leave their little village soon, on to bigger and better or terrible things. 

“Finally!” Zayn said to Liam’s surprise, throwing himself at Liam.

This time, he was the one waiting for him.

They both fell to the ground, Liam weak from surprise and before he knew it, Zayn was wrestling with him like they used to. Liam found himself laughing, deep from his belly, surprise melting away. They ended up on the floorboards, Liam’s wings cushioning the both of them. He had him circled in his wings for the last time, not that he knew, but he _had_  him.

“You knew I was coming?” Liam asked, so happy he could die.

“Of course I did,” Zayn said, “I’m kind of a great sorcerer.”

He kept his window open for Liam, waiting for him to show up, trusting that he would find him. Liam leaped out of his window at night, taking him up into the clouds with him. He spins with his wings tucked around him, shooting up as far as he can go to hear Zayn laugh exhilarated in his ear.

He ran his fingers through the feathers of his wings in awe as Liam lounged shirtless in his downstairs study. The place was full of knick knacks, crystals and old books full of magic. He didn’t mind Zayn studying _him_. He wasn't methodological and cold like he could be when h was getting into the zone. He was tender, careful, _loving_. Liam felt it, basked in it, he was loved intensely. 

“I want to be with you forever,” Zayn said, levitating a feather round and round between his fingertips. 

He killed himself trying, coming up with different ways to beat the Devil, to stay immortal. He slowly fell into madness. He forgot the reason why he wanted to stay alive forever, for Liam, he was seduced by his own power. There was nothing left but dust, the crystals and old books gone alongside with Zayn.

~

Liam doesn’t go to battles anymore, he’s bound to the earth. He stays bound to Zayn. He does age but very very very slowly, mostly on the inside. 

It doesn’t mean he doesn’t see blood every time he closes his eyes, like it’s painted on the backs of his eyelids. He used to drown the thoughts, the guilt, the horror, in Zayn but without him he has nothing else to do but think of the bloodshed before the earth was ever created. He might even have enjoyed it at one point, the killing. The rushing in his head before he painted everything red. He could swallows down his sorrow, his loss, if his life was filled with unimaginable horrors.

He doesn’t go to battles anymore, his life on earth is punishment enough. 

~

Liam remembers with blinding clarity when Zayn took his own life. He was so _sad_. He tried his best but he couldn’t save him then. Nothing he could do was enough, he still killed himself. Liam slept afterwards, he doesn’t know for how long he slept but he couldn’t remember much for a while after he woke up. 

He woke up in the middle of the forest with Zayn’s sword under his chin. He was a prince and Liam was on his land, covered in filth of the centuries that passed while he locked himself away into his own mind, mad with grief and sorrow.

The last thing he saw was Zayn, the blade pricking blood from his wrist. He opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was Zayn, the blade pricking blood from his throat. He heals fast, slower than before he forfeited his wings - or were they taken from him? - but faster than a human. He wasn’t afraid. There was no way he could’ve forgotten Zayn, not one last inch of him. But he still bleeds, he’ll always bleed for him.

Zayn looked at him curiously. Liam looked up into his handsome face, saw the realisation dawn on his face, it was instantaneous. He lowered his sword and went down on one knee, touched his dirty cheek, his eyes flashing in victory. He didn’t do any more in front of his men but he took him back with them to the castle. He was cleaned up and taken to one of Zayn’s room.

He refused any food that was offered to him, he wasn’t starved for food, he was starved for Zayn. 

“My love,” Zayn crooned, falling into bed.

They didn’t leave the room for two weeks. 

Zayn sat on the bed, shirtless, holding grapes in his hands. “Eat,” he demanded, holding one up to Liam’s mouth. He did as he was told, heart high on his throat, closing his eyes at the warmth of his fingers. 

Liam didn’t want to leave the bed but they had to keep moving. Zayn brought him back to his palace. He was married, he had daughters, but he always came back to Liam. 

“You need to eat,” Zayn said because Liam kept forgetting. 

He brought him little things, sweets and little treasures, expensive wine, books. It felt like he was being serenaded like the first time. 

“Go back to wherever the depths of hell you came from,” his wife hissed at him as she passed him, eyes slitted in hate and anger. 

Liam couldn’t, not for as long as Zayn wanted him there. 

One day he came back into their room with a wound on his right shoulder, blood stained and hurt. He was in pain and all he wanted to see Liam. Liam recoiled from the blood at first, he’d seen too much of it, he didn’t want to remember. 

He couldn’t just stay in his room after that. He followed him out to battle, stayed at his right hand side. He could look out for him like this, maybe he could keep him alive for a little bit longer. He followed Zayn out to the battle and straight into bloodshed again. He hadn’t fought in so long but it came naturally, but of course it did, his body's eternally in tune with Zayn. 

He earned a reputation for being an exceptional soldier, much to Zayn’s delight. He became untouchable, Zayn didn't let anyone fuck with him. They didn’t go back to the palace too often, they were at war. Liam stayed in the same tent as the prince and the men didn’t say a word. Zayn would sooner cut someone down than have them speak ill of his right hand man. Zayn told him later, when he was an old, wise and merciful King and bound to the palace, that it might’ve been where he had felt the most alive.

They were happy. They spent twenty five years together but to Liam it felt like one night’s sleep.

“The others are starting to notice, you don’t age,” Zayn said, lying in their bed. 

He had one arm tucked behind him, comfortable in Liam’s presence. He wouldn’t be staying long. His wife was sick, he was going to be leaving soon to tend to her because he was nothing but loving to his family. Liam couldn’t fault him for that. 

“You don’t either,” Liam said with a snort, tracing his handsome face with his fingers, scratching his fingernails into his beard.

Zayn laughed, eyes creasing warmly.

Truth be told, Liam loved seeing Zayn like this. _Let him live a full life_ , he said before sleep every night. He got to watch him as a young, fired-up, _stubborn_  prince, all loud-mouthed and wide-eyed, leading his men with so much heart. The way he would reserve softness for Liam, peering up at him from underneath the blanket, hair wild, mouth swollen and soft, fondness in his eyes. Now he’s a King, admired, respected, _feared_. He rules the kingdom with quiet, unshakeable dignity and here he is with Liam, biting at his fingers playfully when it naturally drifts towards his mouth.

He loves him, all of him, every single version of him. Across all of time and space. 

~

Sometimes he didn’t remember or he pretended he didn’t love him. He was a skinny boy with too many tattoos to count and he asked somebody else to marry him. He was so incredibly brave, singing in front of tens of thousands of people, _stadiums_  full of people, trying to stand up for what he believed was right. But he couldn’t admit he was falling in love with Liam. Or maybe he just didn’t that time. 

Liam remembers kissing him in big hotel beds, their mouths touching softly over and over again, bodies trembling. Terrifying and new all over again, it was like flying.

Liam stood next to him as the best man and watched Zayn watch his bride walk down the aisle. 

~

He walks into his classroom halfway through lunch to see Zayn in the middle of the classroom, kissing another boy hungrily like he’s running out of time. Liam doesn’t realise the snarl turning his body inside out _ugly_  is coming from his own throat. Harry pulls away in a hurry, flushed deep and Zayn turns to stare at him with hooded eyes and slick lips. Liam composes himself, it’s _nothing,_ it’s happened before. His entire body is still screaming _wrong wrong wrong_. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t give him to any more of a reaction because he knows that’s what Zayn wants from him. He turns back around and walks out.

He ignores Zayn because if he doesn’t he’ll kiss the taste of Harry out of his mouth, have him whimpering around his tongue, body going _desperate_. Because he’ll _remember_  how their bodies worked with each other.

Liam walks all the way out to his car at the end of the parking lot, every nerve in his body hurting. He drops into the driver’s seat, resting his head against the staring wheel and trying to breath evenly, forcing the pounding in his head to stop. It hurts at the base of his teeth, in his very skin, he could cry from it.

“Liam!” Zayn says.

Liam looks up blindly. Zayn’s rushed out after him in a frenzy. He’s pulling at the car door on the passengers side frantically. He bangs his hand against the window, making far too much noise. Liam’s blinded, overwhelmed. He reaches over and lets him in. 

“I’m sorry! I didn’t think it’d hurt you so much,” he says in a rush. Liam feels dizzy. He doesn’t think it was a great idea to have him in his car. “I was just trying to make you jealous,” Zayn says, taking a deep gulp of air in panic. “I just wanted you to do _something_.”

“Come here, come here,” Liam pleads.

Zayn shuts the door behind him in a hurry, all rushed limbs and fingers. He falls on Liam, straddling him in his seat, hands everywhere. Liam places his face against his throat and _sobs_  at the relief that washes through him at the touch of skin on skin. He holds him close, his hand covering the nape of his neck, further into his wild, thick hair. 

“Liam, Liam, Liam,” Zayn says, sighing out in pleasure. “My _love_.”

“Oh god,” Liam says, holding him close, shaking apart. 


End file.
